The Morning After
by FigFan
Summary: Post ep for "No Strings Attached" Cause yknow, all the cool kids are doing it.


Title: The Morning After  
  
Author: FigFan  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: Post- No Strings Attached. "It's been 24 hours since I last slept. 16 since Carter left. 13 since I heard about Eric. The hours have all blurred together, yet they seem endless. No time at all. Right."  
  
Disclaimer: ::sigh:: They're so not mine. They just talk to me sometimes. And if they were, they would SO have more bed scenes.  
  
Feedback is almost as good as naked Carter. SK850@aol.com  
  
Author's Notes: I won't even begin to pretend that I'm anywhere near the greatness of some of the other Carby authors here. (Lanie, IAS, I'm lookin specifically at you two.) I'm just a little fan who sometimes has Carter and Abby talking to me. This has been swimming in my head since the second NSA was over, but it took a little nudging from my favorite drunken Carby whore, Edna, to actually get me to finish it. The title is all hers too. And according to her I pulled a copout, cause this starts with Abby's POV and then switches over to Carter's POV about halfway through.  
  
Y'all will just have to deal with that. Enjoy! (  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I can't help but laugh, prompting Carter to roll off of me back to his side of the bed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I cant believe I took a split shift just so I could fool around in bed with you.."  
  
He feigns annoyance. "What? Fooling around in bed? This is a pivotal point in our relationship, y'know.."  
  
I bust out laughing, prompting him to give me one more quick kiss.  
  
This feels good. It's something I haven't felt between us in a while. This aura of comfort. Sure, we've been in bed together almost every single night, but the last few weeks, months really, have had this odd tension thrown about. But something clicked again and we've fallen back into our groove.  
  
"You sure you're okay with me going?"  
  
The question startles me a bit. He must have taken my silence as a bad sign.  
  
"Yeah. I said I was."  
  
"And you meant it?"  
  
Of course there's a part of me that doesn't want him to go. There's a part of me who hates it when we have to work different shifts and I'm in the apartment by myself. But this will be good for him. I want him to be happy.  
  
He changes the subject again. "What are you thinking?"  
  
I chuckle a little bit. He doesn't want to know. "Nothing."  
  
"Work?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Your mom?"  
  
"God, no."  
  
"C'mon, tell me."  
  
"It's a song."  
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Mmhmm," I nod. "From the 70's."  
  
He motions for me to spill it.  
  
Not going to happen. "It's goofy."  
  
To my amazement he starts rattling off 70's songs. My boyfriend really is a dork.  
  
"Blinded by the Light-"  
  
"Nope."  
  
He shifts so he's facing me.  
  
"Love Will Keep Us Together-"  
  
"No."  
  
"What?"  
  
What the hell. I'm overcome by this wave of giddiness. So, I lean back against the pillow and start to sing.  
  
"Rubbing sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite."  
  
He shakes his head in disbelief. "No."  
  
I grin and nod.  
  
As I continue, he smothers himself with his pillow, and I can't tell if he's trying to drown me out, or just trying not to laugh.  
  
And then I realize I don't really know the words. Shit, what's that line?  
  
"And the thought of. something... something. is getting so exciiiiting.."  
  
He comes up for air. "Are you done?"  
  
Nope.  
  
"Sky. rockets in flight! Afternoon. delight.." I can't contain my giggles anymore. It feels good to laugh. I can tell he's laughing too.  
  
I start to sing the chorus of the song- Painfully, may I add.  
  
He starts pleading with me. "No, no, please don't. please don't."  
  
I have no intentions of stopping. Until I find that I'm suddenly singing into his mouth. I laugh and shut up.  
  
That worked. I start to respond to his kiss as the phone rings.  
  
Dammit.  
  
"You gonna get that?"  
  
I smile. "Nope." Partly because I bet it's my mother, but more so because I really like where I am at this moment.  
  
He leans over further as I manage to unplug the phone. There will be none of that today.  
  
He manages to move even closer to me, and this time there is nothing to prevent me from closing my eyes and getting lost in him.  
  
We finally break and I look over at the clock. "We should leave soon."  
  
He nods, but makes no move to get out of bed. Instead, he rolls onto his side and brings me up against his chest. I'm content just staying like this forever.  
  
And then the light bulb goes off, and I smile triumphantly.  
  
"Loving you."  
  
He sits up a bit. "Hmm?"  
  
"The words I couldn't remember before. In the song."  
  
His eyes begin to widen and he starts to open his mouth in protest, but I cut him off and sing the line the right way.  
  
I'm not completely tone-deaf. He just doesn't know that.  
  
"And the thought of loving you is getting so exciting.."  
  
The sheer terror in his eyes has transformed into mild shock that I can actually carry a tune fairly well.  
  
A smile flashes across my face and I lean over to kiss him. "You're so cute when you're surprised."  
  
He grins back and pulls me on top of him.  
  
"I love you." I really don't tell him that enough. I know he knows, but it's always nice to say it.  
  
The grin gets wider.  
  
"Hey, I'll be home sooner than you think."  
  
"Yeah, I know. No time at all."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The VCR clock blinks at me angrily. 5:45.  
  
It's been 24 hours since I last slept. 16 since Carter left. 13 since I heard about Eric. The hours have all blurred together, yet they seem endless.  
  
No time at all. Right.  
  
A glass and the bottle of tequila rest on the table in front of me. I've only had a sip-one swig from the bottle-but I don't know what's stopping me from downing the whole thing. The bittersweet taste still lingers on my tongue and everything comes rushing back to me. How easy it would be to get away. How warm it would make me feel inside. Just one night. These are extraordinary circumstances.  
  
Carter isn't coming home for a week. He would never have to know. That's the way it goes anyways. As much as I tell him that I won't hide anymore, it's impossible not to. I've done it all my life, why stop now? There's more than enough reason to. My baby brother isn't coming home.  
  
The shrill ring of the phone snaps me back to reality. It's funny, now that I broke down and finally left Maggie a message I don't want to talk to her again. I grab the phone from the arm of the couch and once again turn off the ringer.  
  
Exhaustion is finally creeping over me, and maybe I'm starting to realize that nothing else can be done tonight. This morning. Whatever. I get up off the couch and head towards the bedroom, too tired to move the remnants of my almost-drunken binge.  
  
By the time I take the few steps into the bedroom I'm too tired to keep my eyes open. Neglecting to change out of my clothes I surround myself in the warmth of the blankets, hoping that it can bring me solace for at least a few hours.  
  
As I drift off I realize that I'm sleeping on Carter's side of the bed. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I sit in a cab watching the billboards and streetlights fly by. I'm surprised there's not any traffic- Almost 6 am on a Friday morning should put me right at the start of Chicago rush hour.  
  
She told me not to come. She told me not to come a few times.  
  
But that's never stopped me before.  
  
As soon as I got off the phone with her I headed back to the airport to catch a flight home. My knees feel like jello from the plane seat and my eyes are bleary from lack of sleep, but this is what I need to do.  
  
Her brother. Missing. I refuse to believe that this was a suicide mission, though I know that's what she believes. Just the tone in her voice was more than enough. And there we were in bed while Maggie was trying to get a hold of her.  
  
Maybe if I had made her answer the phone I could have helped her. I definitely wouldn't have left.  
  
As the driver pulls off the highway and into the city I pull out my cell phone and debate calling her again. I tried once when I got off the plane, but there was no answer. I'm forcing myself to believe that it's because she's fallen asleep, but I can't help but worry.  
  
He pulls up to her-our-apartment and I fumble to find cash and my keys. I peer up to the second story and see that the living room light is on. Maybe she is awake.  
  
Reaching the apartment I unlock the door and place my bags inside. The voicemail light is blinking, 18 messages. Probably 17 from Maggie, and then the one from me. I had debated leaving a message, but ended up hanging up instead. I survey the room and my eye catches something glistening on the coffee table.  
  
My heart drops as I see the bottle of tequila and the glass. It isn't full, but it certainly isn't empty. I don't want to assume that she drank it, it could have been like last time where she just poured it, but this isn't like last time.  
  
Last time her brother was sick, now he may be dead.  
  
Last time I was there, this time I wasn't.  
  
I head towards the bedroom, a mixture of worry and sorrow flowing through me. The irrational side of me is saying that it's no wonder that she drank. I would have done the same. But at the same time I feel like we've just fallen in a hole.  
  
Not to mention I'm afraid of how I'm going to find her.  
  
To my relief she's peacefully asleep on my side of the bed. My instinct tells me that she's asleep by her own free will, and not due to alcohol. I know I shouldn't wake her, but I feel the need to be close.  
  
So I slowly slip off my shoes and climb on the bed behind her, fitting my chest against the curve of her back. My arm slides across her body and I close my eyes, trying to be as quiet as possible.  
  
She does stir, but it doesn't come as a surprise to me. She's a light sleeper. Blinking sleepily, she rolls over and studies me with a confused expression.  
  
"Hi," I whisper.  
  
She props herself up on her elbow and blinks some more. It's hard for me to believe that we were in this same position less than 24 hours ago talking about cheesy songs from the 70's.  
  
"Why-why are you here?"  
  
I kiss her on the forehead. "I thought you could use some company."  
  
I can tell she's waking up- her walls are starting to build themselves again. "I told you. You didn't have to come home."  
  
I sit up. "Abby-"  
  
She flops herself back against the pillow. "Go back to Belize with your friends. There's nothing you can do here."  
  
I try my best not to be hurt.  
  
"Well I'm staying."  
  
She nods slightly and I can hear her voice catch in her throat. "Okay."  
  
There are times I just want to hold her until it all goes away. "Come here."  
  
She obliges and I take her into my arms. I'm once again reminded of how much this is like that night back in November, when this all started.  
  
I'm also convinced that it's not over.  
  
She breaks away from me and starts fiddling with the blanket that was covering her. Her head is so low down that her voice comes out muffled.  
  
"I had a sip."  
  
She looks at me now, eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall. I know she's not crying about the tequila. I know after all this time she still doesn't like to cry in front of people. So I don't push. She needs to tell me this herself.  
  
I offer up my hand to her, which she tentatively holds onto.  
  
"I only had a sip," She repeats, "I thought it would be so easy this time. I bought it, I poured it, I had a sip and then I couldn't do it. There was nothing stopping me and it would have made everything so much easier. But I couldn't. Just that one." The tears are definitely flowing now, and I try hard to hold mine back. My heart is breaking for her. For everything.  
  
She leans into me again and cries into my shoulder. "He's gone, John."  
  
"We don't know that for sure."  
  
A sniffle. "I'll let you be the optimistic one."  
  
It's strangely comforting to me that her sarcasm is still around. My hands start moving up and down her back. "Did you ever get a hold of your mom?"  
  
She sighs. "No. I left a message and then when she finally called back I just shut the ringer off. I wasn't up for it."  
  
I decide it's a good sign that she at least called Maggie, even if she never went through with the conversation.  
  
I glance over at the clock, and inwardly groan when I see it says 6:30. "Do you have a shift tomorrow?"  
  
She shakes her head. "Chuny said she would cover for me."  
  
So they know.  
  
She plays her mind reading trick again and squeezes my hand. "Susan told them. I was annoyed, but I guess it's for the best. I know they mean well."  
  
"You should get some sleep. There's nothing more you can do tonight."  
  
She smiles faintly, which makes my heart expand until I fear it's going to burst. "I do believe I was doing that until someone came and crashed my party."  
  
I scoot off the bed and rummage through my suitcase until I find my treasure. I pull out my gray Northwestern sweatshirt and bring it back to her.  
  
"Arms up."  
  
She raises them above her head and I gently lift her shirt off of her, unhook her bra, and pull the sweatshirt down over her head.  
  
A playful grin flashes across my face. "You need me to do the rest, too?"  
  
She chokes back another sob, and shakes her head.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey." Back into my arms again.  
  
"Thank you," She mumbles.  
  
"Well, I do like undressing you better than dressing you, but."  
  
She kisses my shoulder. "For coming home."  
  
"I know."  
  
I cup her face in my hands and turn her towards me. "I'll always come home." Her eyes are downcast, refusing to look my way. "I love you, Abby." Now she looks at me and bites her lip, trying not to cry again.  
  
I lay her down and take off her remaining clothing, dumping her pants and socks on the chair against the wall. I lean over and kiss her before retreating to change clothes myself. When I return from the bathroom I find her curled up, still on my side of the bed.  
  
I think I can handle that for a night.  
  
She's still awake, staring at an undetermined point on the wall, tear- stained cheeks and all.  
  
I crawl into bed, tucking the covers around both of us in the process. I wrap my arms around her and start massaging her stomach, steady strokes, light and gentle.  
  
I know I won't sleep until she does. I know that I'll never feel like I'm doing enough.  
  
But as I take in her scent and listen to her sniffles subside, I know that this is where I'm meant to be.  
  
Home. 


End file.
